


Later.

by oronka (Zzzara)



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zzzara/pseuds/oronka
Summary: Trapped between ‘to speak or to die?’ I always held back for later.





	Later.

 

 _ **“Later!”**_ I say, and he flinches.

What’s wrong?

A frown.

What’s the matter with him?

“Yes, later,” he brushes off carelessly.

Is he angry? He wasn’t expecting me to babysit him, was he? He shouldn’t.

…

The thing is - he  _expects_  something. It makes things difficult. Why cannot we just be - talk, laugh, swim, jog without the held breath of a hidden motive, underlining every gaze, gesture, silence between us?

Maybe I expect something, too?

It makes me uncomfortable.

Deflect and avoid.

 _“Later!”_ is the easiest thing to throw.

…

As if on its own volition, my palm lands on the back of his shoulder. His bare skin is hot from the sun. 

He jerks away.

I am horrified, what am I doing? There are people around us.

Proving that I’ve done nothing wrong, I grab him by the arm and pull back.

“Is it a nerve?”

“I’m okay,” his voice is rough.

“It’s too tight, you need to relax." I place both palms on his back, stroking, squeezing, rubbing. His body feels firm, unyielding under my touch. I’ve been wanting to touch him for some time. Now, I’ve got what I wanted. I’m not sure I like what I’ve got.

"I am relaxing.” He’s anything but. He is recoiling.

What a sick game I’m playing, groping the kid like that? 

I disgust him.

I disgust myself.

“Marzia, come here!” I’m paving my way out. I take her hand and place it on his shoulder. 

“Here, see? It’s too tight. He should relax more.”

“You should relax more,” she repeats.

“Later!” I blurt, escaping back to valleyball.

I don’t look back at him, I can’t just yet. _You’re sick, Oliver. Just keep your distance, okay?_

…

“We almost had sex last night,” he says, “Marzia and me.”

I stare at him in disbelief, how can one say such a thing in front of their father?

“Why didn’t you?”

Ah, it is their thing; father and son. I am both amused and envious.

“I don’t know. If I’ve had the courage to reach out and touch, she would’ve said yes." 

Elio is looking at his father, but I feel as though the words are aimed at me. 

It narks me off. Why is he telling me this? Parading Marzia in front of me: look, I’ve got a girl, and we are doing  _ **it**_.

Well, fuck you, boy. 

"Try again later,” I say. It is my way of putting: I don’t give a damn.

Maybe I do. But it’s none of his business.

…

“Is it better to speak or to die?”

Better to speak, says the princess.

I disagree. I would die in a second. 

So would the knight, it seems.

Try again later - I would tell him.

But what do I know? I am not in the place of giving advice.

…

The breeze is flickering golden shadows across his face in the grass. His eyes are closed, so I can look all I want.

What am I doing here, after I told him myself  ** _this_**  cannot be?

The possibilities his words have opened cannot be unheard. 

The blood is pounding in my temples in anticipation of what I’m about to do.

There is no _“Later”_ for this.

I reach out and place my fingers on his lips.

…

He looks at me, and my hand stroking his hair stops. Everything stops.

He shrugs me off.

I should have known better.

It cannot be undone. Not now, not later, never.

“Let’s go swim,” he says.

…

“Why didn’t you give me a sign?”

“I did,” I say.

Later, when thought about it, I saw that I didn’t. In fact, I all but warded him off.

Trapped between ‘to speak or to die?’ I always held back for later.

…

His sleeping face is peaceful. 

I commit every detail to my memory: delicate features, the spot in the corner of his mouth that turns his smile mischievous, unruly curls across his forehead; I stock it all for later, when he is gone and I am left with nothing but air in my hands.

There is no Later for us.

Our Always has outlived its term.

Our Never is about to begin.

It is clearly dawn now.

He opens his eyes and smiles.

***

**[My Tumblr Blog [oronka]](https://oronka.tumblr.com) **

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinions with me in the comments below if you want :)  
> Tell me how you came across this fic, I'm really interested to know!


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